


hand to heart

by ShowMeAHero



Series: sweet creature [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Babies, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Kid Fic, M/M, Marijuana, Married Couple, Newborn Children, Recreational Drug Use, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23320198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: “Mike brought you something for me,” Eddie tells him, holding up a paper bag and shaking it. Richie sits up a little bit to watch him as he unrolls the top and starts unpacking it. “I was telling him you weren’t feeling great but you can’t smoke right now. He’s got some stuff he thinks might be good for you to try instead.”
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: sweet creature [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1674445
Comments: 5
Kudos: 133





	hand to heart

**Author's Note:**

> Sam suggested this and he was RIGHT to do so!!
> 
> Also I wrote this high, enjoy!!

**_july 9th, 2020_ **

* * *

Richie’s still not allowed to fucking smoke. Not that he’s ever _really_ allowed to fucking smoke, but his doctor has said it multiple times, and firmly, and Richie rolled his eyes and nodded but he meant it. That doesn’t mean he can’t be frustrated that he can’t smoke, though. He wants to get high, but he _can’t._ His anxiety’s been through the roof and his pain level has been even worse, because, as it turns out, giving birth fucking _hurts_ and he’s only three days post-birth so he’s fucking _miserable._

He’s just curled up on his side in bed, right now. Just watching Zoe. She spends most of her time sleeping, and Richie couldn’t love her more. He trails one fingertip over her cheek, then down over her chest, watching it rise and fall. She’s so fucking _tiny,_ he can hardly stand it. He wants to spend every second watching over her; so far, he’s done exactly that.

Richie lifts his head when the doorbell rings. He frowns, turning to look at Eddie where he’s sitting at his desk across the room. He’d dragged it in from his home office when he quickly realized it would be impossible for him to stop going back and forth between the rooms when he knew Richie and Zoe were in the other room.

“I thought we weren’t having anyone over for two weeks?” he asks. He’s already miserable at the idea of someone coming in and him needing to put on his usual fun self when he’s just so fucking exhausted.

“It’s not a visitor,” Eddie says, pushing back from his desk. “I’ll be right back, don’t move.”

“Yeah, I’m such an escape artist lately,” Richie comments as Eddie slips out of the room. He hears him jog down the hall, footsteps echoing into silence; they’re too far away to hear anyone at the actual door. Instead of bothering to try and eavesdrop, he just returns his attention to Zoe. He strokes his fingertip down the soft line of her nose, then pulls back when she yawns, stretching in the blanket she’s swaddled in. Richie can just see the outlines of her fists through the velvety fabric.

“I love you,” Richie says. The front door shuts quietly before Eddie’s footsteps come softly back.

“Mike brought you something for me,” Eddie tells him, holding up a paper bag and shaking it. Richie sits up a little bit to watch him as he unrolls the top and starts unpacking it. “I was telling him you weren’t feeling great but you can’t smoke right now. He’s got some stuff he thinks might be good for you to try instead.”

Richie sits up straighter against the pillows behind him, careful not to jostle Zoe at all. She doesn’t even move, but the uncomfortable position he shifts in makes a burning surge of pain roll through him, and he groans, turning his face to muffle the sound in his pillow. Eddie’s hand comes to his back quickly before he’s turning him onto his back, climbing into the bed to help Richie sit up himself.

Eddie props him up against his chest, lets him lean back against him as he keeps opening up the paper bag. Richie catches his breath, the pain settling back into the usual he’s been dealing with the last few days.

“He thinks this’ll be fine for you,” Eddie says. He pops open a Tupperware container labeled _for richie 7/9_ and shakes out one of Mike’s homemade edibles from inside.

“Man, I don’t know,” Richie says warily. “You know Mike’s shit always makes me sick after.”

“He said this is better for sensitive stomachs,” Eddie tells him. “He’s been working on it for you. It’s okay if you don’t want it, though. We don’t have to, we just thought it’d be worth a try, if you wanted.”

Richie only hesitates for another moment before he takes the brownie from him. Regardless of whether or not he gets sick afterwards, Mike’s homemade stuff always makes him feel fucking awesome, so it’ll be worth it.

When he’s eaten the edible and settled back against Eddie’s chest, he just lets himself relax, for now. He leans his head against Eddie’s shoulder and tips his head down to watch Zoe. Eddie just keeps rubbing his back, working out knots in his muscles one at a time.

Richie can feel when it kicks in, especially since he hasn’t eaten anything recently and he hasn’t been high in a fucking _while_ by now. He yawns, leaning back into Eddie again, turning his face into his throat and nuzzling in there.

“I love you,” Richie murmurs. Eddie smiles, then runs his hand through Richie’s hair before stroking down over his cheek and his jaw.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. “Do you feel better?”

“Mmm,” Richie hums. He tips his head down and looks at Zoe. She stretches again in her blankets as he watches her, pushing at the fabric to try and free herself in her sleep. Her arms are too weak, too small; it makes Richie tear up. “Eds— She can’t— She can’t move, Eddie, her hands—”

“No, shh, her hands are okay,” Eddie assures him. Richie still reaches out to her, and Eddie lets him. He moves carefully, gingerly untucking the blanket from around her and spreading it out so her limbs are free to move.

She stretches her hands up above her, then out to the sides. When she curls up after, her tiny legs pulling up with her into the fetal position. Richie remembers that she _was_ a fetus, like, a week ago, or— or something, a few months ago. He’s not sure when fetuses become babies. He just knows _his_ fetus became _this_ baby and he’s _super_ fucked up about it.

“Eddie, look at her,” Richie says, choked up. He puts his hand over her chest, his palm spanning the entire width of it. He hiccups, then says, “She’s so _small.”_

“She _is_ so small,” Eddie agrees. “Look at her, hm? Really small.”

“How can I take care of something this small?” Richie asks. He’s terrified of how big the world is and how small Zoe is. She’s just too fucking tiny. There’s too much outside for her.

“I’m here to help you,” Eddie reminds him. “I’m always going to be right here, Rich, I promise.”

Richie nods, tearing up again. “I love you,” he says, but Eddie doesn’t reply. He tips his head back and says, “No, I was talking to _you—”_

“Oh, I thought you meant her,” Eddie says. “I love you, too. And her. Both of you.”

Richie smiles and drops his head back down to look at her again. He sighs, and her eyes flutter open. She closes them again, then blinks, yawning and furrowing her brow. Richie’s transfixed on every microexpression that flickers across her face as she wakes up. She still can’t see well, her eyes unfocused most of the time, but she’ll try to look at the two of them, when they hold her close. Richie hopes it’s just normal newborn stuff and not his genetics already popping up in her.

When he tips his face a little bit closer, her eyes focus on him. She makes a face that’s something like a smile. Now, Richie _knows_ that she’s way too little to be smiling yet, too young to be able to do that yet, but it still _looks like one._ Richie sees her smiling little face for her first time, and it’s Eddie’s dark eyes but it’s her _face._ He can’t help starting to cry harder.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Eddie says quietly. He rubs Richie’s back as Richie reaches out and lifts Zoe up, shifting up right to hold her close against his chest. Eddie helps right him, pulling him back into his chest and curving around the two of them. He strokes Zoe’s cheek with his thumb for a moment. “I got you both. Everything’s okay.”

“Look at her _face,”_ Richie says. He wipes at his face, the tears disappearing as quickly as they came as he watches her wrinkle up her nose and push her face into his chest. “It’s _her_ face.”

“You’re right,” Eddie says.

 _“It’s her face,”_ Richie repeats firmly. Eddie nods against his shoulder, kissing his bare skin there. Richie can’t stop staring at her, held close in the cradle of his arms, looking so much like Eddie and still starting to look so much like _herself_ that he’s _freaking out._ He huffs a laugh, then brings her up to kiss her forehead, then her nose, keeping her close.

“You feeling good still?” Eddie asks. Richie nods, grinning as he kisses her on the cheek this time. “Good, I’m glad.”

“I love you so much,” Richie tells him. He tips his head back to kiss the underside of Eddie’s jaw before he slumps back down and pulls Zoe closer. “And I love _her_ so much.” He pulls his knees up, ignoring the dull tug of pain as he curls up around her and leans into Eddie before whispering down to her, “Hey, I love you, Zoe. Hey there, Zoe, hi, hey— It’s me, yeah! Hi!”

“She knows exactly who you are,” Eddie says.

“She knows you, too,” Richie tells him. “She always has, she knows your voice.”

“Shh,” Eddie says. Richie laughs again, then yawns, curling up into her again. He doesn’t even remember stretching out.

“Look at her,” Richie tells him. “This is _our_ baby. Eds, we _made_ her.”

“Yeah, we did,” Eddie says.

“No, Eddie, _look.”_ Richie lifts her up closer to Eddie’s face, so the three of them are sharing the same air. She blinks, then wrinkles her nose again. Eddie laughs. “We _made her._ You and me. _You and me,_ we made— We made _life,_ Eds—”

“We did,” Eddie cuts him off. Richie grins at Zoe, kissing her on the forehead again. Her hair tickles his nose, and he grins, inhaling her sweet smell and sighing. “Well, _you_ did, you’re the one who did all the work.”

“Mm, yeah, I did,” Richie agrees. Eddie laughs again as Richie says, “I worked _really hard,_ too, Eddie. You don’t know how _hard_ it is.” He tips his head up and asks, “Can we do it again? Please?”

Eddie cups his face in his hand and says, “Ask me again when you’re not high and we can discuss what the next move is.”

 _“More,”_ Richie says. He intends to finish a sentence, but that’s all that comes out before he returns his attention to Zoe. He pulls her against his chest again, lets her head settle on the shoulder Eddie’s leaning over. When Eddie shifts to kiss the side of her head, Richie feels more than sees it, and it makes him grin again, stupid-happy and delirious-floaty.

He lists back into Eddie again, drowsy. Lucky for him, Eddie catches him and shifts them down just a little bit more so Richie can get comfortable.

“Can I have her, big guy?” Eddie asks. Richie nods, passing her up to Eddie. Once she’s out of his arms, though, he instantly wants her back. He catches Eddie by the hem of his shirt.

“Can she stay?” Richie asks. Eddie settles her back down beside him, the same spot she’d been laying in before, and Richie curls back up around her. This time, it doesn’t hurt, and he just smiles, pressing his face into hers.

“I’ll take her and feed her once you go to sleep,” Eddie tells him. Richie nods, letting her wrap her fist around his ring finger and yawn in his face. “Get some sleep, Richie. Close your eyes.”

“Mm,” Richie murmurs sleepily. “Love you.”

“Love you,” Eddie replies.

“Love you,” Richie repeats. He kisses Zoe’s face again then says, “And I love _you.”_

It doesn’t take long to fall asleep, after that, but it’s the best sleep Richie thinks he’s ever gotten in his fucking _life._ His last thought is that Eddie and Mike deserve the world, and sadness that he can’t give it, and joy that there’s a world out there existing, overwhelmed by it all and happy to be there anyways.

**Author's Note:**

> You can (and should!) come chat with me on Twitter at [@nicolelianesolo](https://twitter.com/nicolelianesolo) and/or on Tumblr at [andillwriteyouatragedy](http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/).


End file.
